Fake Hearts and Kisses (Fake #1)

4. CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

BLAKE

Two Days Ago

T he small coffee house has become my favorite spot in the last few weeks. It’s not the coffee—I don’t even like coffee—or the pretty little pastries on display that keep me coming back every Wednesday, Friday, and sometimes Sunday mornings. Actually, I’m here every Sunday, but sometimes the reason I am here is not. Some Sundays, she doesn’t show her face at all.

Today she is, and she’s with the petite girl that comes with her every Wednesday. Daisy is why this place is now my new favorite spot to get the coffee I don’t like and pretend to read the book that sits on the table in front of me. I take another sip of coffee, keeping my face even. The stuff still tastes like brown piss water even though I put four sugar packets in it. I set the cup down and focus on what Daisy is saying. The small woman with her—I can’t remember her name to save my life—keeps touching her arm, making little sympathetic sounds. I bet it has something to do with Daisy’s sister, who she’s constantly talking about.

I try to focus on their words, picking up the book so I don’t stare. Sometimes I catch myself staring, and I’m worried Daisy will notice. That’s why I bring a book. So I can listen and pretend to be immersed in the pages, so I’m not caught watching Daisy’s every move. It’s hard not to. She’s absolutely perfect. The curve of her hips, her small waist, and tiny breasts. The softness of her cheeks and the little dimple that forms on her right cheek when she smiles. Her full pink lips and those stunning green eyes that look like she’s caging something wild inside her. Even her hair, a honey brown that would seem dull on another woman, is silky and lovely. Everything about her is lovely. I could sit next to her for hours and watch her pretty features as she laughs, running my fingers through her hair. I’ve thought about it a lot more than I should have. Weaving my fingers in her hair. Licking her skin. How she’d sound as she breathed my name. There have even been a few times I’ve gotten so hard just thinking about her that I’ve jerked off to the images of her sweet mouth and green eyes.

When I think about it that way, it seems really creepy. A bit stalker-ish, too.

I frown. Note to self. If you ever work up the nerve to talk to Daisy, never mention you have jerked off thinking about her before you even knew her name.

“It’s a really shitty thing to say,” the small friend says. “I mean, she’s your sister.”

Of course. The sister. It’s always the sister. I wonder what insult she’s slung at Daisy this week. Wait. Not an insult. I remember now. Daisy was saying this past Sunday it was shitty of her sister to have a Conner Gathering on Valentine’s Day. Why Daisy is complaining, I don’t know. From what I’ve overheard Daisy say about her, this fits with her sister’s personality. She must be a real shit to force her friends and family to rearrange their plans and travel right before Valentine’s Day.

“What’s worse is that I’m going stag,” Daisy says. “I don’t even have a boyfriend to take. ”

“I’ll go with you,” the woman says.

Fuck, what is her name? I’m usually good with names and faces, but this woman is… unremarkable next to Daisy. Every woman I’ve seen since her isn’t worth remembering.

“Don’t worry, Trish,” Daisy pats her friend’s hands. “I don’t expect you to take this weekend off to come with me.”

Trish. Okay. Her best friend’s name is Trish. What a fucking dumb name. It’s no wonder I couldn’t remember.

“You know I will.” Trish sips her coffee and looks over at me.

Fuck , I’m staring. I blink, shifting my eyes to focus on the board above her head. She looks behind her and sees the large menu. Hopefully, she thinks I’m just staring at the menu and completely focused on what other shitty coffee drink I want and not on them.

“I think it’d be worse if I showed up with my best friend instead of some smoking hot guy that adores me,” Daisy says. “It’ll just prove what my parents already think.”

How could they not think she’s the most talented and fascinating person? They created her. They should be proud to have a teacher for a daughter and not another empty-headed bleached blonde like her sister who designs ugly-ass clothing for uninteresting people with too much money. Plus, she writes. She has spent hours here, drinking coffee and scribbling in journals. Lily doesn’t write. Lily is generic and apparently cruel. Not that I’ve met her sister, but from listening to Daisy talk about her, I can already tell Lily isn’t someone I would like. She bleaches her pretty brown hair, so it looks more silver than the golden honey color of Daisy’s.

Okay, another note to self: Don’t mention that you looked Daisy up on social media or that you crept all over her sister’s profiles and business website. At least not before you get her number. That would sound bad. Really bad. Oh, and never, ever tell her you followed her to the coffee shop after you first saw her at the library two months ago. That will not go over very well.

I couldn’t help myself. That day, I was using the library computers, gathering information on a client when she walked in. The library computers make it harder to link back to me, so I’m there often. With all the times I’ve been there, I have never seen Daisy. At first glance, she isn’t the sort of woman I typically go after. I lean more towards the dark and troubled type. The ones with daddy issues and a mean streak. A woman who enjoys a night of fucking. One who knows how to walk away, no questions asked. Something about Daisy made me look twice .

Then a third time, after I told myself she was not my type.

I think it was her hair. It’s weird to be obsessed with a woman’s hair, but hers looks like silk. My first instinct was to grab that silky hair in my fist, pulling her roughly against me, so her mouth formed a small oh of surprise, and then let each strand fall through my fingers. Slowly.

The women in my life are hard. Fast. It’s boxed dye in various shades of red or deep black. It’s heavy eyeliner and skin covered in harsh tattoos. Not that there is something wrong with pink hair and sexy tattoos wrapped around delicate arms and legs, but seeing Daisy was like breathing in fresh summer air.

She didn’t even notice me sitting there watching her every move. Her eyes slid over me like I was completely invisible and didn’t stop. Even when I felt myself willing her to look at me, she never saw me. Although I’ve learned to blend into crowds, women notice when I’m around. But not Daisy. She headed directly for the romance section, grabbed a book with such determination that I knew she had it all planned out, checked out, then left. There was barely enough time to shove my papers in my briefcase before she was out the door .

Briefcase. Who’d have thought I would ever carry a fucking briefcase?

“You need a date for the Conner Gathering,” Trish says. “Have you asked Darren?”

“Darren?” Daisy shakes her head. “Seriously?”

My thoughts exactly. I do not know who Darren is, but judging by the way Daisy says it, I’d bet he’s fucking completely inept or good enough for her.

Yeah, Blake, because you are such a prize .

“Darren doesn’t exactly elicit feelings of lust in women,” Daisy says. “He’s an accountant.”

“He’s kind of cute.” Trish wrinkles her nose. “And he’s got money.”

“The money is good to impress my mother and father, but the looks?” Daisy sinks into her chair and looks up at the ceiling. “Why can’t a hot guy with lots of money just fall into my lap?”

That’s it. This is so fucking perfect. It’s like fate has finally smiled down at me. For the first time in my shit life, I’ve just been given a lovely gift. Except, I can’t have her. She’s too perfect. Too sweet.

Don’t think Blake. Just take this opportunity presented. Go to her and take this weekend alone with her. You know damn well you’d love to spend a weekend with her, so take it or leave her the fuck alone. This is all you get.

I rise from my seat, my limbs feeling jittery from the insane amount of coffee I’ve had and the excitement rushing through my veins. I’ve waited for months for a chance to approach her, and she’s right here asking for me. Trish’s eyes widen as I stop right next to Daisy. I pull out the empty chair and slide in, resting my arms on the little table. The sleeves of my t-shirt pull up, showing off the tattoos weaving around my biceps and down my forearms. I’ve been told several times that I’m gorgeous, so I know exactly the effect I have on women. Not that I’m vain. Not really. What I am is a realist. While looks can get you many things in life, they can also be carved away. So instead of relying on looks in life, I’ve relied on my mind. A keen mind gets you further than a handsome face.

Daisy’s eyes slide from the tattoos on my arms up to my face. Her mouth opens slightly when she looks into my eyes. Up so close, I can see she has little freckles on her cheeks and sprinkled over her nose. Her eyes are green but trimmed in gold. Whatever perfume she wears has subtle notes of roses and musk. She’s fucking mouth-watering.

I let a slow smile spread over my lips. “I’ll go with you. ”

Her brows furrow. She looks genuinely confused. Like she hasn’t just spent the last thirty minutes complaining about this fucking family event. Why they keep referring to it as the Conner Gathering, I have no clue, but I’ll go. I’d go anywhere and do anything if it meant I had Daisy to myself. Even if it is just for the weekend. “I’ll be your date for your family gathering.”

Trish makes a sound in her throat. I glance at her to make sure she’s not choking like she sounds and look back at Daisy. Her mouth opens, then closes.

“How do you know about the Conner Gathering?” Trish says for her.

Again, what the fuck? Why the title? I don’t bother looking at Trish. I keep my eyes trained on Daisy’s mouth. Her lips are like a perfect heart. A full, perfect, pink plump heart. I wonder if they’d be as soft as they look if I ran my tongue over them. How they would feel wrapped around my cock. If she could take me deep until I hit the back of her throat.

Focus, Blake. Focus.

I watch as her eyes fall back to my mouth. “You’ve been talking about it since you walked in.”

Daisy glances at the table where I had been sitting. So she has noticed me over in the corner. Good. She looks at my arms again and then at my eyes. “You were listening? ”

I shrug and lean back in the chair. Her eyes automatically go to my chest, then back up to my jaw. I haven’t bothered shaving for a few days, so there is some growth. The way her eyes slide over me makes me glad I didn’t. She obviously likes the stubble. I’m pretty sure she likes everything she sees. I grin. “You haven’t exactly been using your inside voice.”

Her cheeks flush. God, she’s so fucking sweet. I smile at her apologetically, like it’s my fault for hearing and not hers for talking too loudly.

“And how do we know you won’t just haul her off and murder her?” Trish asks. She’s logical. I like that. It’s good Daisy has friends that want to protect her. The woman with the stupid name is smart not to trust me.

“You don’t.” I peel my eyes off Daisy and look at her friend. “There are cameras here that show my face. They show me approaching you. Me speaking to you.” I wave to the barista. “And Cindy knows my name and where I work, so if you go missing, I’ll be easy to find.”

“Why?” Daisy asks. “Why would you even volunteer to go?”

I lean back in the seat and cross my arms. “You need a date to make everyone envious and impress your family, right?”

She nods slightly .

“And I wouldn’t mind going to…” I check Trish for reassurance even though I know already. “A mountain lodge?”

Trish grins. “You’re certainly hot enough, but what do you do for a living?”

“I work for a security firm.” It’s not an outright lie, but I don’t go around advertising my profession.

Trish’s grin gets wider. She looks at Daisy. “Do it. He’s fucking hot, and he does security stuff.”

Daisy huffs. It’s a little exasperation and a little bit of laughter. “And you can leave with me early Saturday morning and come back Monday?”

“Yes.” I give her a smile. I’d go to Mars at this point. “Did I mention I was the boss?”

Trish laughs. “This is perfect.” She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. I resist the urge to pull away. “You have to promise to spend the weekend acting like Daisy is the love of your life and you can’t keep your hands off her.”

I look back at Daisy, letting my eyes slide from her lush lips to the graceful curve of her neck. “That won’t be a hardship.”